Melody
by Chariline
Summary: Boston!AU: Alfred F. Jones is far from home in the big city, getting himself more and more lost with each passing minute. As he's trying to figure out where he is, he hears a familiar tune and follows it to its source. Will he realize that perhaps he isn't as lost as he thought he was after all? Rated T for slight language.


"Shit, got off at the wrong stop again," Alfred F. Jones muttered to himself as he craned his neck upwards, blue eyes scrutinizing the sign just above the exit out of the station on the T's red line. His glasses were starting to get smudged from the dirty air of the city - or so Alfred would have liked to think, being from a small town in Kansas. He was entirely out of his element in the city of Boston, with its impressively large and austere skyscrapers towering so many hundreds of feet above Alfred's head, the bustling of the midday traffic rush, the inflated prices of everything, especially the food, and the sheer rudeness that he was quickly discovering the human race was capable of. Where Alfred was from, if someone saw a stranger that looked lost, they would walk up with a kind smile and offer them a place at their own dinner table to eat and get their bearings.

A couple bumped into Alfred and he heard the man swear under his breath, "Fucking idiot standing right in the middle of the fucking walkway…"

Alfred flushed with embarrassment and quickly got out of the stream of people. He wanted to go back to the T and try again; surely if he just rode the red line straight from one end to the other he could eventually find the stop he needed? Quincy marketplace couldn't be too far from - where was he, anyway? Alfred paused in his internal mutterings and looked up and around him, trying to find a sign or a public map that could tell him where he was, but there wasn't anything nearby. All the useful maps were underground, in the sweltering, airless station. There was no way he was going back down there and through the terminal again; every time he tried to insert his charlie card, he did it the wrong way and everyone either snickered at him or commented about his ineptitude and how, "with those clothes he's probably some country hick from the middle of fuckall, nowhere", something that never failed to make Alfred even more nervous than he already was at that point, which usually resulted in him dropping the card and further exasperating the people waiting behind him.

The memory itself was embarrassing enough to give Alfred cause to walk quickly away from the entrance to the station, hands shoved deep into his pockets. He had no clue where he was or where he was going to go, because he hadn't even been able to find the hotel he was staying at after he had left it this morning and entered the godforsaken public transit system, but Alfred knew he was going to stay the hell away from the T and the red line if he could help it. It was nearing dinnertime and Alfred's stomach rumbled hungrily as he passed by chain after chain of restaurants; bakeries and little pizza shops that swore they were all Italian and fifties-style burger joints. None of them sounded right and Alfred figured that since he was in such a unique city as Boston that he could stand to find somewhere to eat that wasn't a chain. That was why he had been looking to go to Quincy, he had heard from the pretty Japanese woman who worked at the concierge desk in his hotel that it was a great place for tourists and had many small shops as well as numerous places to eat.

The young man's stomach rumbled again, loudly, and he almost swore under his breath when, suddenly, he paused. He stopped, right in the middle of the street, and didn't even hear the group of people who had been walking behind him swear vehemently at him as they passed, concentrating solely on the sound he heard.

It was music. A familiar tune; he knew it well, even when played on violin as it was currently, because it was a song his Mom had sung to him when he was littler, to him and his little brother Matt, who had decided to stay home and risk a trip to a big city next year. Someone was singing it and Alfred was determined to find out who. Without even considering that he was only succeeding in getting himself more and more lost, Alfred strode forward confidently, unaware that people were actually parting for him. Confidence was everything in the city; if someone looked as though they knew where they were going, people would slide to the side like melted butter, not keen on getting in the way of a man with a plan.

He could hear the cello now where he hadn't before; there was a cello and a violin and the sounds of the notes slid over and inside Alfred's ear smoothly and he felt lucky, as if he was hearing a private performance, but surely something that sounded so wonderful was being played for an audience, a large one -

Alfred turned the corner and there, a few feet down, were the men playing the song. The cellist was going to town and Alfred could hear it more clearly now, but it was the violinist who caught his eye. He held the violin with all the experience of someone who had been taking private lessons for many years, yet his limbs had the loose, electric flow of someone whose talent came naturally. Alfred pressed himself against the wall of the building he found himself against, holding his breath, not wanting to interrupt such a beautiful song. He dug around in his pocket, pulling out a fistful of bills, and waited until they were done to rush up and offer the money, face bright red with embarrassment at walking straight up to such good players.

The violinist regarded him with critical eyes, eyes that sucked Alfred in; they were such a vibrant green he couldn't look away, yet he couldn't help but feel as though he was being x-rayed. The other man, the cellist, snorted quietly to himself as he packed his instrument away, turning to the young women who were now flocking to him.

"Thank you," the violinist said, finally, and softly, and some of the tension eased out of Alfred's muscles as the man finally took the money he had offered. Alfred was suddenly aware that he hadn't even uttered a word and made to reconcile that when the musician spoke again. "But why are you offering me so much money? Surely we don't sound good enough for fifty dollars."

Alfred flushed again, his ears feeling like they were on fire. "Didn't mean ta offend ya, sir," he replied, and was suddenly aware that his accent was coming through strongly. "But that's a song my ma sang to me when I was just a kid. I'm, well, kinda far from home an' all, an' it was nice ta hear somethin' familiar in a city fulla strangers." He smiled shyly at the man, at the green eyes that suddenly seemed softer.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," he said, smiling in return, which prompted a more confident smile from Alfred. "My name is Arthur, would you like to go for a drink?" he asked, extending a hand as proper greeting.

Alfred nodded and nearly grinned before catching himself and sticking out his hand to shake Arthur's. "Nice ta meet ya, Arthur, I'm Alfred, or Al. I like Al."

Arthur's smile widened. "What a lovely name," he commented softly, before picking up the volume of his voice and gesturing at Alfred. "Shall we go, then? I have a nice little pub in my mind that's only a stop away if we take the red line."

Alfred laughed. "Maybe ya can show me 'round the T. I always get lost." As Arthur chuckled and nodded, beginning to explain the workings of Boston's somewhat confusing public transportation system, Alfred grinned warmly, thinking that maybe he could finally start to enjoy his stay in this city.

* * *

**A/N: I went to Boston in August and I really liked it, especially the T, which is where the inspiration for this came from! Also, I adore Al as a sort of country boy; I like makin' him lost and dorky.**

**This was originally meant to be a standalone piece rather than part of a series, so that's why it's in the complete section. I really don't see myself adding to this any time soon, if at all, though if I do I'll be sure to change the status of the piece itself accordingly. :) Please review and elt me know what you think!**

**~Chari**


End file.
